


The Heart of the lake.

by Silverphoenixstar



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur Finds Out About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), F/F, F/M, Gen, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic Revealed, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Poetry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 23:09:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30012402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverphoenixstar/pseuds/Silverphoenixstar
Summary: Due to an injured wrist, Merlin is unable to juggle when Queen Annis comes to Camelot. In a fit of reckless anger he reads out a poem he really should have kept hidden. Secrets are revealed, and maybe if his lucky he'll get a second shot at loveBTW I really like Queen AnnisI also dont own merlin
Relationships: Freya/Merlin (Merlin), Gwaine/Merlin (Merlin)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 11





	The Heart of the lake.

Merlin hated feasts. Truly. There was nothing worse than standing around, listening to a bunch of mindless sycophants try and suck up to the King for hours on end. Especially when he had to stand the entire time, ramrod straight carrying a pitcher. He couldn’t even tune them all out, because he had to be aware enough to keep the King and Queen’s glasses filled. And the smell from all that delightful food, that he would never get to eat was beyond taunting. Most days he was lucky if he actually had time to eat. He worked two full time jobs. Actually no, he worked way more than that.

Most Kings had two or three personal servants, to share the (frankly extensive) workload. He was alone. Guinevere had never managed to hire anyone after Sefa fled. So he did quite a lot for her as well, (although several servants did help keep her chambers clean- which considering she barely used them was hardly taxing). Then, of course, there was the fact that, despite employing laundresses and stable boys (lots of them actually) he always had to do the King and Queen’s laundry and look after the Kings horse himself. He couldn’t quite remember why this was part of his job, but it was and that was that. Most Kings and knights also have squires. _Qualified_ lads who actually have time to properly maintain armour and weapons, because its actually helpful to them learn, so they can be knights later. No one else has their servant do it. Of course most Kings have a court scribe to dictate to. Dictate. Not have them write off of their own backs. Yet every single speech and a good portion of the missives were actually written by Merlin, for Arthur to merely look over and polish as necessary. 

He was also was the court physicians apprentice and dogsbody. He differentiates the two because most would employ two separate people. One to do all the fetching and carrying, herb collecting and errand running. The other would help make the potions and poultices, do the deliveries and act in the physicians stead as required. Somehow Merlin was both. Increasing skill on his part, and decreasing health on Gaius’s was only increasing that workload. 

He also happened to save all of Camelot ~~from time to time~~ weekly. That was definitely a full time job, not that he could tell that to King Prat.

So now he was standing a feast, with his stomach rumbling, contemplating the merits of magicing up a roasted boar to eat. I mean he’d die, but at least it would be on a full stomach. It would also be quite funny to see Arthurs shock, before the inevitable hatred and betrayal made himself know and he dragged Merlin to darkest recesses of the dungeons, before being tying to the stake in front of a jeering crowd and burning him alive. 

Still roast boar. Yum. 

He was interrupted from his fantasy of delicious roasted boar by Arthur needing his drink topped off. _Again_. Prat. He can’t possibly need to drink that much. The uncharitable part of Merlin, the part that was just itching to grab the sumptuous roasted meat just a hairsbreadth away from his traitorously itchy fingers, thought Arthur was doing this on purpose. Merlin currently had a sprained wrist. He’d injured it at the “tavern” (why Gaius why?) So Arthur seemed to think it was all sorts amusing to give him tasks that required wrist action. For fun or just to get back at him, Merlin would never know. Perhaps it was all in his head. All he knew was holding this pitcher was torture, the night clearly was never going to end and he wasn’t eating roast boar.

Life was so unfair. 

Of course it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Instead of some stuck up noble or snake oil lord, the seat next to Arthur was filled by Queen Annis. She was completely terrifying, but Merlin liked her. She was starkly blunt; honest in a way nobles so rarely were. She let you know if she was aggrieved, and was to the point with her wants. She wasn’t unreasonable, backstabbing or patronizing. For a noble, she was quite frugal. Her temper could be scary, it was proportionate. Whilst firm and not particularly merciful, she was no tyrant. She set attainable demands, punished people who failed them, and afterwards the issue was set aside. She didn’t stew in rage for days and lash out at innocents, she was firm and fair. She was hardly warm and open, but it was obvious that she loved her people fiercely. She was a warrior queen, dedicated to her kingdom. You wouldn’t want to mess with her and underestimating her would be suicide. But by the same token she was not the kind of leader you cowered in terror before. She inspired strength and pride among her people and admired those traits in return. So Merlin found her to be breath of fresh air. Both because he could appreciate her leadership and because he enjoyed not spending the entire evening braced for an assassination attempt, like the kings other guests often seemed try. Merlin lamented the fact that she probably didn’t hold him in such high regard. 

“These feasts can become so monotonous without entertainment don’t you agree? I fear its been such a long time since I last got to enjoy a good spectacle. In fact I think the last time I enjoyed myself so well, was during a certain juggling performance you so kindly regaled upon me, when I was hosting you rather than the other way around.”

Juggling. Great. He didn’t have to be a seer to see where this was going. 

“Ah but of course you’re right. It has been a while since my servant last made a spectacle of himself. Merlin get out their and entertain our lovely guest.”

Merlin took a frustrated breath. 

“Sire I fear my sprained wrist makes it simply impossible for me to juggle at the moment and I would so hate to give a sub standard performance.”

“Oh so its only at your chores you don’t mind being substandard? Come on Merlin stop being a baby and do something entertaining.”

“Sire, I really don’t know that I can-”

“Why don’t you recite some poetry!”

_What. The. HELL. Leon!_  
Leon had heckled. Leon. _Leon_. Merlin felt like if he thought about it enough, he might be able to make sense of a world where Mr prim and proper first knight of Camelot could feel comfortable enough to heckle in front of visiting royalty. Nope. Still doesn’t make sense. Maybe if he wasn’t so hungry...

“Why Leon what a brilliant idea. Come on Merlin give us some of your best work.”

Arthur was smirking his “im-so-suprior-to-you-because-im-the-king-and-a-hunter-and-you’re-my-helpless-prey” smirk. Clotpole. He looked at his king and tried desperately to convey how not in the mood for this he was. Those blue eyes, however, held no reprieve, only amusement. Suddenly Merlin was FURIOUS. He gave this man everything, but all he ever wanted was a good show. Oh he’d give them a good show alright! Abruptly, he walked to the centre of the dining hall and with a reckless anger began to recite.

The heart of the lake is a lady.  
A lady who holds my heart.  
I know she’s always with me,  
Even though we are far apart.

I met her, what seems so long ago.  
When I was just a boy.  
I knew so soon, that I loved her so.  
She filled my heart with joy.

I found her shackled in a cage,  
She looked at me with fear.  
To know such pain, at such an age,  
It filled my heart with tears.

What monster could give her such a fate,  
For being born her way.  
The pain I felt was too great,  
Because, like her, I had no say.

Despite warnings, I set her free.  
Well, free enough to hide.  
It seemed she was just like me.  
Afraid of the monster deep inside.

I hid her well and held her fast.   
Swore to keep her safe from harm.  
She cried so deeply about her past,  
I feared I’d never keep her calm.

I stole food to make her smile,  
And candles to give light.  
I defended her from men so vile,  
And swore I’d make things right.

She asked for strawberries I couldn’t find,  
So I grew her roses red.  
I said lets leave our past behind,  
And run away instead.

I cupped her cheek and kissed sweet,  
A tear of joy ran down my face.  
I knew without her I’d be incomplete,  
For in my heart she found her place.

If only fate had let us be,  
If it had let us both decide.   
Maybe then we could be free,  
From the hateful world outside.

She chose to run without me,  
To keep me safe and sound.  
She feared if I was to flee,  
What would happen if I was found?

But she kept her secret so deep.  
So scared I’d scorn and hate,  
Its one I would have helped her keep,  
But alas it was too late. 

She begged, but became what she feared,  
A sword ripped through her side.  
My hope for life disappeared.  
I held her through my tortured cries.

I took her the lake alone.  
She felt loved, or so she said.  
I was left all on my own,  
My beloved lay there dead.

I lined a boat with leafy ferns,  
I couldn’t bear to say goodbye,  
I faltered when I saw her burn,  
Why was _she_ the one to die!

None of this was her fault,  
But still she paid the price.   
All for fear of being caught,  
By men with hearts of ice.

She was the only one saw me,  
For who I am inside.   
Now I’ll never be free.  
I’ll always have to hide. 

If only I had saved her,  
And built our lovely home.   
Instead I lament they way things were,  
And how I’ll always be alone. 

But even though we are far apart,  
I know she’s always with me.   
This lady who holds my heart.  
For the heart of the lake is my lady.

Freya.

Merlin stopped speaking and looked up at the crowd. His audience was looking horrified. For a moment he stood there nonplussed, before the implications of what he had just read out caught up with him. What had he _done_? He made to grab his mouth horror and, to his surprise, found his cheeks were soaking wet. Oh. He’d apparently been crying. That acknowledgement was apparently enough for his eyes to fill again, as he was promptly blinded by a fresh wave of unshed tears. He choked out a ragged sob, murmured an excuse that would fool no one and fled the dining hall. 

He found himself slumped down the wall of the battlements, quaking in grief and terror. Panicked cries of agony were forcing their way out of his clenched teeth, as he struggled fruitlessly for breath. His throat felt like it was closing in and black spots were appearing in his field of vision. He knew fear should be his primary emotion and he definitely was scared, Arthur may be oblivious, but he’s not _blind_ and that poem was incredibly inflammatory. However he couldn’t conjure enough fear to vanish the crushing grief that had paralyzed him, at a time he really needed to think. It wasn’t until that moment, when he didn’t have the strength to move an inch, that he truly appreciated just how much he’d held back over the years. He thought he had dealt with it, but truthfully, he’d buried it. He’d drowned himself in work and never allowed himself to really even think about. Even the poem, he’d written it one tear filled night a week after her death, then put in a box and never looked at it again. He had shelved his pain, because he didn’t have time for it. Now he had thoughtlessly ripped off the bandage on his heart and was bleeding out for the world to see. He finally exhausted himself to the point where he was crying silently. He heard footfalls and the door round the corner creaked open. 

“Arthur please, I just... can’t talk to you right now. Please?”

“Good job I’m not Arthur then isn’t it.”

Merlin whirled round to see Queen Annis standing in the doorway of the battlements. She walked over confidently and sat herself on the ground next to him, as if sitting on the ground next to a foreign servant was an every day occurrence. He gaped like a fish, but at her highly unimpressed look, desperately tried to look less like an idiot. Still he couldn’t think of anything to say. She started speaking, in the manner of a tutor trying to impart a lesson. 

“You know of course I wasn’t born a princess. But I was the daughter of a very wealthy duke, who had long been in favour with my late husbands father. From early childhood my father used to remind me that, as soon as I was of age I would be marrying the crown prince and would become a princess. My whole life was planned out for me, before I even knew what love was. But I was ok with it. I was dutiful and practical. And I respected my betrothed. Though I thought he was a bit reckless and perhaps a bit cold and dismissive of the lower classes, I thought things could be ok. He never inopportuned or disrespected me, and even seemed to listen to me on occasion. A rarity at the time, as noble women really were meant to be only looked at. So I was actually pretty content about it all and felt quite lucky. I never really saw much point to passion, it was something that fools allowed to weaken them and it made people make stupid decisions. I was grateful that I was above that sort of thing. Then, when I was seventeen, I met Emily. 

She was shy, petite, well mannered and completely gorgeous. She was basically everything I was supposed to be. Instead I was an argumentative, athletic, champion axe thrower, who used to sneak off to train in combat wearing trousers and a ponytail- when I thought no one was watching. By all rights I should have resented her for being so bloody perfect. How potato peeler in my fathers kitchens seem so demure and elegant. I befriended her because I wanted to know her secret to being so feminine. It was an executive decision. But soon I found I cared more for her company than her lessons. I had never had a friend before, not really. Just other nobles who would fawn over me all day, yet never actually listen to a word I would say or know anything about me at all. So I assumed we were friends, that friendship made your heart skip and your soul soar. That it was normal for your friend to look at you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky. I had no clue I was in love. 

My Father worked it out before I did. He told me that I’d fallen in love and that for my sake he had to save me. When he took her from my side she ran forward and kissed me. And in that moment, that one moment it was like realising that the whole world must have been wrong before, because this was right. He banished her and it broke me. She was escorted to the border by my fathers men, to ensure she left. Bandits attacked them and she died. When my fathers men came back saying she dead, part of me died too. I know my father didn’t have her killed, but it was still his fault. If he hadn’t banished her, she wouldn’t have been attacked. So I know what its like to lose the person you love most at the hands of the person closet to you. So why did Arthur Pendragon kill the woman you love?”

Merlin’s head just hurt. He couldn’t believe he was discussing something so personal with someone he barely knew. But when she immediately seemed to know what happened he was struck dumb. He couldn’t even croak in response.

“Did she have magic like you?”

He felt like he was going to faint. He hadn’t heard her right. He couldn’t of. His pulse was thundering in his ears and his vision was swimming. He was going die! There was no other explanation. He was going to drop dead this second. How did she know? It was impossible!

“You are nowhere near as subtle as you think you know. It takes a special kind of idiot to disobey their master and follow them across enemy lines. Unarmed no less. So either you really were the biggest simpleton on the planet, or you thought you could give him an advantage he wouldn’t have if he went alone. But what could a servant give his king to keep him safe in such a situation hmm? Then of course there was fight. I had been _assured_ victory from a reliable source. Yet I didn’t get it. Whilst your king is no doubt a formidable warrior, he shouldn’t have won. He didn’t even seem surprised when Sir Derian’s sword fell from his hand at the crucial moment. As if that sort of thing is very commonplace in Camelot. Well I assure you, trained warriors in a death duel do not drop their weapons. Yet supposedly the greatest fighter in the land didn’t even seem phased about his unseemly good fortune.

Then of cause there was your _enchantingly_ good juggling skills, despite the fact that it seems you can barely walk upright or catch to save your life. How does a servant with the reputation of a clumsy oaf have the dexterity to juggle like a trained jester?

But mostly its your eyes. They are always watching everything, seeing what can’t be seen. You monitor his every breath; his every movement. You never relax or let down your guard. A simple servant doesn’t have the alertness of a veteran, the paranoia of criminal and the loyalty of a guard dog.

You hide behind a fools facade, but fool I am not. I see you. So I ask you again, why did Arthur Pendragon kill the woman you love?”

Soon he was spilling everything about Freya, draining the poison of his grief. He hadn’t ever spoken about her to anyone. For most people he simply couldn’t, the story relied to heavily on his magic. Even if he had edited it, he still would have had to admit to freeing a dangerous prisoner. A prisoner who went on to kill several people, even if Freya wasn’t to blame for that. It was still treason, thus hardly likely to be well received by anyone in Camelot. As for Gaius, he just wouldn’t.

Him and Gaius had had many disagreements over the years, but this one had been the closest to breaking them. Arthur had been reacting to a very real threat to his own life, when he had cut Freya down. Gaius had chosen to betray him. He knew why and could sympathise, forgive even. But not forget. Never forget. And when the situation had been reversed and Gaius had told him it wasn’t his choice to make, it had taken every inch of restraint not to throw back “well know you know how I felt.” Alice had _chosen_ to dabble in dark magic. Her reasons had been good and her dark actions were controlled. But it had still been her choice to get involved with the manticore. She hadn’t been an innocent cursed for acting in self defence. And of course Alice was still alive and well. Breaking her out of the dungeon was perfectly fine, it is just Merlin who isn’t allowed to do things like that. Not that he had wanted her to die, heavens no. But sometimes the hypocrisy burned a little too hot for him to look his guardian in the eye. He certainly didn’t feel comfortable baring his soul on the issue. 

So it was refreshing to just let it all out. Queen Annis was actually a remarkably good audience. She didn’t get riled or shocked; didn’t ply him with platitudes or empty words. She mostly just let him speak. Soon he was even broaching other topics, talking about the crushing weight of being a magic user in Camelot. He wasn’t telling her everything, obviously. He had neither the time nor the inclination. Some stories hurt too much, and some were too personal to Arthur. But the general gist of being a lost soul, trying desperately to keep his dollophead extraordinaire alive and well he did impart. He talked more than a bit about losing Will, Lancelot and his father. He was careful though. Politics were never far away though, he couldn’t afford to undermine Arthur’s authority to a foreign Queen. It wouldn’t do to present him as helpless, underserving or completely clueless. So he picked his stories well. He wished more than anything he could actually just tell Arthur. That ship had sailed however. It had deceived for too long. Even if he could be assured forgiveness for the magic, (which considering some of the more morally ambiguous things he’d done with it was already a big if), the lies would assuredly destroy any shot at redemption. 

Merlin didn’t covet much in life. He had no love for money, prestige or power. He didn’t seek to enhance his station. He didn’t jealously horde gold or gems. He felt no desire to flex his muscles or abuse his position of authority over the other servants. Because, yes, he was actually allowed to do that. Well not abuse per say, but he could offload and order others as he pleased. He instead found more joy in helping others, assisting them despite his insane schedule. He was still wearing the same clothes and shoes he came to Camelot in, despite the last nine years leaving them threadbare. He didn’t fill his room with trinkets and knickknacks. He was still living in a glorified cupboard; sleeping on what could charitably be called a shelf. No he didn’t desire much in life, but he was zealously protective of his friendships. Like a true miser he kept them jealously close to his heart and refused to let anything threaten them. Maybe it was because his childhood had been so bereft of it. He had had Will, in the end. But he had only moved to Ealdor when Merlin was fourteen. Before that he had been utterly alone. He’d been hated for being a bastard. He was skinny, gawky, had massive ears and cried over snared bunnies. Easy prey. He also fancied they could tell that there was something different about him, and he had been far to terrified they’d find out about him to ever seek to change their opinion of him. His childhood had been so lonely and his bullies had been relentless. Now that he had actual friendship, real honest to god, caring friendship, the thought of losing it was unbearable. He wouldn’t risk it. Couldn’t. 

“Did you ever get over her? I mean your husband, did you..?” Merlin’s courage failed him as he realised how personal the discussion was turning. 

“Yes and no. I’ve never loved anyone the same way and you probably won’t either. But I did love my husband. I’m a better Queen without him. He was reckless, impulsive, far too thirsty for war and far too uncaring of others. But he was a good husband. I loved him and miss him. It was a love hard fought, born out of grief and duty. But he was a comfort and, towards me at least, he was a good man. I was so angry when I lost him, well you know all about that, but it wasn’t really the same kind of grief at all as when I lost Emily. But it hurt all the same. He made me happy. I felt guilty about that for a long time. Guilty that I could be happy without her, and guilty that the love I had for him was only a pale shadow of what I was capable of. But there is no rule that says we are required to measure our love; compare quantities to validate. If you love someone and they make you happy that’s all you really need. I made peace with that. I was too young to bury my heart in a grave, as are you. Find someone you can care for and who will love you for you. It will never be the same, but comparisons will just make the heart ache. Take time to work on something new and let yourself be happy with someone else. Because everyone deserves to be happy. Well it’s getting quite cold and I’m sure my servants will be concerned. Have a think on what I said. Take care.”

Merlin sat there contemplating for a little longer, trying desperately not to think of a certain dark haired knight with fabulous hair. He knew he had to buck up his ideas if he was going to face Arthur. He didn’t want to crack and spill everything, even if it was so tempting. Why did he have to let his hunger turn to anger? He was, no doubt, in so much trouble now. Even if he managed to keep a lid on the situation, Arthur was likely pissed at him for ruining the feast. He took a deep breath and sought out his king.

He didn’t notice his audience lurking in the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so this was meant to be a one shot. Then chapters developed. Still its only going to be a few, nothing like my other fic. Also im not 100% happy with the poem. I thought it would be easy because i used to write a lot of poetry, but i found it a lot harder to write from someone elses heart as opposed to my own.


End file.
